本帖最后由 囧囧人 于 2010-2-19 00:07 编辑
【原文标题】 Rich Dog, Poor Dog（China's new class struggle）
【中文标题】富狗狗•穷狗狗/同狗不同命（中国新的阶级斗争）
【登载媒体】Foreign Policy 外交政策
【来源地址】
http://www.foreignpolicy.com/articles/2010/02/12/rich_dog_poor_dog?page=full
【译 者】 囧囧人
【翻译方式】 人工
【声 明】 本翻译供Anti-CNN使用，未经AC或译者许可，不得转载。
【原文库链接】http://bbs.m4.cn/thread-223430-1-1.html
【译 文】
Two years ago, while visiting Changsha, the dusty provincial capital of China's Hunan province, I decided to take a walk into the crowded lanes and alleys behind my hotel. I'd been in countless lower-middle-class Chinese neighborhoods like this one, and the sounds were happily familiar to me: the sizzle of frying food, the clanking bells of bicycle vendors, and the loudly insistent voices of the province's famously temperamental residents. But a few minutes into my walk, I heard something unfamiliar and alarming: the howl of an animal -- a dog, I thought -- in pain. Curious, I followed the sound around one corner, and then another, until I came across a sight whose painful memory I've never been able to shake: A medium-sized mutt hung by its rear legs from a rope, while two shirtless young men beat it to death with clubs. At their feet, the pulverized remains of additional dead dogs were sprawled like bags of water. Instinctively, I reached for the camera that I carry with me when traveling. But just as I was about to shoot, one of the two men noticed me -- a white foreigner -- and pointed his club in my direction. He was clearly aware that my interest was disapproving, and I had no interest in pressing the issue.
两年前，当在中国湖南省的省会——尘土飞扬的长沙旅游时，我决定去旅馆后边拥挤的弄堂小巷散步。我已经去过无数个类似这种地方的中国的中低阶级近邻，所以这样的声音让我有种愉悦的熟悉感：油炸食物时发出的咝咝声，自行车小贩铃铛的叮当声，以及湖南人因其出了名的喜怒无常的脾气而发出的喧嚷声。但在步行了几分钟后，我突然听到了一些不熟悉的吓人的声音：我猜是某种动物，应该是一只狗的痛苦的吠叫声。在好奇心的驱使下，我跟着声音的来源转过一个又一个拐角，直到遇见那么一幕让我心惊肉跳、呆若木鸡的画面：一只中型杂种狗被绳子绑住两条后腿悬吊在半空，两个光着膀子的年轻男人正用木棍将其活活打死。而在他们的脚边，还有更多其他的粉碎的死狗残骸像一袋袋水似的躺卧着。我马上拿起旅行时总是随身携带的摄像机，但在我正要拍摄时，其中一个男人注意到了我——一个外国白人。他举起手中的木棍冲着我的方向指了指，意思很明确：你不能拍，而我也没兴趣报道这件事。
Residents of Changsha have been eating dog for centuries, and ethical questions like whether beating is an acceptable means of slaughter have rarely come to the fore (some aficionados claim that the method ensures more flavorful meat). But due in part to a recently introduced draft law on animal cruelty (China's first), that situation is changing. The proposed law, first circulated last fall, could subject individuals who sell or eat cat and dog meat to U.S. $725 in fines ($7,250 for institutions), up to 15 days in jail, and required statements of repentance. Now the Chinese media and the country's raucous Internet discussion boards are in the throes of something akin to a clash in America's culture wars, with attitudes toward the proposed legislation dividing Chinese by regional and socioeconomic lines. In China, where cuisine is often an issue of identity and rural and urban populations are deeply sensitive to mutual perceptions and misperceptions, the proposed legislation has a symbolic resonance that few other recent social issues have shared. It's a wedge issue, China-style.
长沙人吃狗肉的习惯已经延续了好几个世纪，而关于将狗打死是否是一种能接受的杀狗方式这样的道德问题却极少被公开提及（一些狗肉爱好者声称，通过这种方法更能保持其肉质的美味）。不过由于最近出台的中国首部关于反虐待动物法草案，这种情况有所改变。这部于去年秋天首次流通的建议稿规定，对销售和食用犬、猫肉的个人将可能处以725美元的罚款（对单位和组织处7250美元的罚款）并处15日以下拘留，同时要求写悔过书。如今，在中国媒体上跟网络上展开的激烈争论与美国的文化战争所经历过的艰辛与冲突有着惊人的相似，对这一建议法案的不同态度正在把中国人从地域和社会经济角度方面进行分裂。在中国，饮食习惯通常与身份问题（从上下文来看，这个“身份”不仅指贫富的差别，也指地域的不同——译者注）相关，农村人与城市人在对相互之间的认知和错误认知方面都有着极深的敏感性。与当今很多其他社会热点不同，该建议法案有一个象征性的共鸣：中国特色的分裂问题。
According to a study done by the College of Veterinary Medicine at the China Agricultural University, pet ownership expands rapidly when per capita annual GDP reaches $3,000. This benchmark was reached years ago in Shanghai, Beijing, and other first-tier Chinese cities, and sure enough, pet ownership has expanded rapidly there. In Beijing, for example, dog ownership expanded from 100,000 pets to 1.5 million between 2001 and 2007; not coincidentally, during the same period, Beijing's pet stores increased from fewer than 20 to more than 500. Meanwhile, trade shows devoted to the pet industry have spread rapidly across China, and -- based on my visit to a 2005 show in Guangzhou -- the attendees are mostly Chinese interested in marketing chew toys to the urban middle class.
根据中国农业大学兽医学院的研究显示，当每年的人均GDP到达3000美元后，宠物的拥有量就会迅速扩展。早在数年前，上海、北京和中国的其他一线城市就已达到了这一基准，而理所当然地，那些地方的宠物拥有量早已得到快速扩展。举个例子，2001-2007年间，北京的犬只数量就从十万只上升到一百五十万只；绝非偶然，在同一时期，北京的宠物商店从不到20家激增至超过500家。同时，宠物产业方面的销售展也在全中国范围得到快速传播。基于我在广州参观过的2005年展会可以看出，参展者绝大部分是有志于将宠物咀嚼玩具推销给城市中产阶级的中国人。
Although not all of China's pet owners can be judged as wealthy, one would be hard-pressed to think otherwise during a walk through Xujiahui Park, a sprawling maze of paths on the southern edge of Shanghai's French Concession, favored by Shanghai's elite -- and their dogs. During winter months, the pedigrees of these pampered pooches -- each requiring a $291 license, roughly 39 percent of per capita rural income in 2009 -- is evident not only in their shiny coats, but also in the custom-cut clothes in which some of their owners insist upon dressing them. In recent weeks alone, I've seen a poodle in silk slippers and a schnauzer in a fur-lined blue silk coat complete with a mandarin collar. When Beijing authorities pulled dog from restaurant menus in advance of the 2008 Olympics, it was the cosmopolitan sensibilities of this demographic (and their sensitivity to foreign perceptions of Chinese culinary traditions) that drove the decision. And when, in the early summer of 2009, reports began to circulate that 37,000 dogs had been beaten to death in an anti-rabies campaign in rural Shaanxi province, it was this pet-owning demographic that objected most vociferously, especially online. The animal-cruelty law, drafted by Chang Jiwen, a researcher at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences in Beijing, was in part a direct reaction to this incident.
尽管并非所有中国的宠物主人都被认为是富有的，但在走过徐家汇公园的时候，你完全难以想象他们中有人会是不富裕的。该公园位于上海法租界的南面边缘，如同由许多小径蔓延开来的迷宫，深受上海精英及其狗狗们的喜爱。每张宠物拍照需要支付291美元，约等于2009年（中国）农村人均收入的39%。在冬季，那些娇惯的纯种小狗们不仅穿着光鲜靓丽的外套，有的还在它们主人的坚持下穿上了专门定制的服装。单单就是最近几个星期，我就看见过一只穿着丝质拖鞋的贵宾犬，还有一只身着内衬毛皮并配有旗袍领的蓝色丝绸外套的髯狗。北京当局在08年奥运会前将狗从饭馆的菜单上撤下，实在是出于国际上对这一人群（从下文可知，“这一人群”指的就是养宠物的人——译者注）的感情（以及当局关于外国对中国传统烹调的认知的敏感）推动了这一决定。09年初夏，当媒体报道有37000只狗在陕西省农村的一场反狂犬病行动中被活活打死的时候，正是这些宠物拥有者们反对得最激烈，尤其是在网络上。这部由中国社会科学院的一名研究员常纪文起草的反虐待动物法，从某方面来说正是对于该事件的一次直接反应。
Famously, pet ownership had been outlawed as a bourgeois affectation during the Cultural Revolution, and though that prohibition is now history, the legacy of the prohibition remains strong outside China's more cosmopolitan quarters, where income, agricultural lifestyles, and culinary tastes have much in common with pre-boom China. Indeed, as incomes rise in China's wealthiest cities, those in rural China remain relatively stagnant, creating the oft-mentioned Chinese income gap. In 2009, for example, per capita income among China's urban residents was 3.34 times that of its rural residents, or $2,515 and $754, respectively. This income gap is also a social gap, expressed in differing access to education, social services, and even political rights, and the resulting cultural gap creates contempt and resentment. In Shanghai and other wealthy cities, few comedic tropes are quite so popular as the bumpkin come to the big city; in rural China, few figures are quite so loathed as the Shanghai sophisticate who looks down upon their long-held traditions.
众所周知，在文化大革命时期，拥有宠物被认为是一种“布尔乔亚式”（中产阶级）的嗜好而不受法律保护。而如今，尽管这一禁令已成历史，但在中国境外生活的与发展前的中国有着相似收入、农业生活方式及烹调口味的更多世界性居民的群体中，其“后遗症”仍具有很强的影响力。的确，在中国最富裕城市的收入日渐高升的时候，农村的经济依旧较为萧条，也就出现了被经常提及的“中国的收入差距（或贫富差距）”。比如，2009年中国城市居民的人均收入是农村的3.34倍，分别为2515美元和754美元。收入差距也就是社会差距，也就是说人们受教育的机会、享受的社会服务甚至是政治上的权利都会是不同的，进而导致的文化差距就会出现种种抱怨和愤恨。在上海和其他富裕城市，没有哪一个搞笑比喻会比“乡巴佬进城”更耳熟能详；在中国农村，没有哪一种人物形象会比总是瞧不起他们传统习俗的世故的上海人更令人憎恶。
Animal protection is the perfect proxy for these tensions. In simple terms, it pits rural, traditional Chinese against the young cultural firmament. But regionalism is only one component of the disagreements. On New Year's Day, I was awakened by the pained cries of a goose being slaughtered in the hallway of my Shanghai apartment building by the children of my elderly neighbors. When I mentioned that, perhaps, the hallway was a less-than-ideal place for this grisly act, I was told pointedly that "foreigners should keep out of our traditions." But it wasn't just me: Many of my neighbors, mostly younger and more educated than the goose eaters, were just as irritated, if not distraught, by these dinner preparations.
动物保护成为了这些紧张气氛的最佳代理人。简单来说，它给农村带来了伤害，传统的中国人对上了年轻的文化氛围。但是地方主义并非这些争论的唯一因素。新年那天，我在上海的公寓里被鹅的声声惨叫给惊醒，原来是我隔壁老人的孩子们在过道上杀鹅。当我提及过道不是做这种可怕行为的理想地方时，却被尖锐地告知“外国人不应该插手我们的传统”。不过这其实也不仅仅是我，很多我的邻居，绝大部分要比吃鹅的这些人要更年轻和有教养，也都被这些（可怕的）晚餐准备工作给激怒了，如果不是被逼疯了的话。
Class tensions worry Beijing. Although there's no chance that pet ownership and animal cruelty could cause insurrection (though it has been the cause of protest in the past, including a raucous 2006 picket at a Beijing zoo), there's also little chance that leaders are going to allow passage of a largely symbolic, mostly unenforceable act that implicitly pits those who can afford a Shanghai dog license against those who can't and won't. Until that gap is bridgeable, China's stray dogs would best be advised to keep their tails down.
阶级的紧张氛围使北京甚为担心。尽管宠物所有权和虐待动物不可能引发叛乱（虽然曾经引起过一些抗议，包括2006年发生在北京动物园的一场混乱的警戒 查不到究竟是什么事件，有谁知道？——译者注），可是领导者也不会允许一个仅具有象征性，不太可能强制执行的大型法案造成那些能负担的起上海狗牌照价格与另外那些无法或根本不愿负担这个价格的民众之间相互对立。在这一社会差距还未能缩小之前，中国的流浪狗们最好先夹着尾巴走路了。 |
狗仔卡
发表于 2010-2-18 23:55
提升卡
变色卡
抢沙发
千斤顶
显身卡
楼主
发表于 2010-2-19 00:27
组图打开中，请稍候......